Meet Darcy's daughter, AmyJane (a sequel)
by Fost
Summary: This is the sequel to my P&P AU story Meet My Daughter, Amy Jane. Did you wonder what happened after (and even a little before) to my AU characters? Now you'll know. It starts with a funeral in 1819, but returns to 1812 and works towards to 1819 from then. Note: This story will not make sense unless you've read my first story already.
1. Part 1: It Starts, Chapter 1

**Meet Darcy's Daughter, Amy-Jane**

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**This is the sequel to my P&amp;P AU story Meet My Daughter, Amy Jane. **

**It will not make sense unless you've read my first story already.**

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**Part 1: It Starts, Chapter 1**

**England, November 1819**

Richard stood in the courtyard, only his slight swaying betraying the roil of emotions tearing him up inside. The drizzle continued to fall, as it had since yesterday. While he would not say he was pleased by it, Richard felt the dismal grey English weather was fitting for tonight's funeral. Richard drew comfort from the familiar confinement and rigidity of his regimentals as he stamped his feet and blew onto his hands to warm them on this cold and wet, late November night, as those around did the same. No one spoke, what was there to say?

The drizzle had added a shine to the deep black coat of the four horses and caused the hearse's silver accouchements to glisten in the lamp light, just as it made the black mourning feathers droop. The undertaker had made the arrangements well, within the limited time and finances available. The mutes, pages and mourners all ready to file out after the funeral procession. Of the funeral party itself, there were only a few following the hearse to the internment, the same number as had been here from the beginning. Fewer than Richard thought should have made the effort.

The horse's coats and everyone's breath, horses included, steamed as they made their way to the churchyard. It was somehow different at night, even though he had made the trip any number of times in happier days. While not that far, Richard took little notice of the route, eyes fixed on the hearse, walking as an automaton following the person in front that soldiers all learn to cope with long marches.

By the time Richard arrived at the grave, his awareness had been narrowing constantly. As the coffin was lowered into the dark, wet earth and the vicar droned the familiar, awful words of benediction, they were only half heard. Indeed Richard was only barely aware of others present at this final event of a loved ones' life. He thought it was funny how your whole world can contract to the point where he found himself focused on the way the engraver had inscribed the angel on the coffin's breastplate, his eyes gliding over the name itself, as if not reading it somehow allowed him to pretend this was not happening.

He still couldn't believe it now, no more now than his disbelief the moment Richard received the news. A few hastily scrawled lines, in poor penmanship, on a single sheet of paper, delivered by express rider very early one morning a week ago had completely altered his future and, in doing so, he was sure it had ruined his current happiness forever. His life would never be the same again.

How had it come to this? This thought unspoken, punctuated by the thud of the damp earth falling on wood, wormed into his brain and he could not dislodge it. It was as persistent as a toothache.

He could not shake the thought loose as the internment came to an end.

It stayed with him as, one by one, everyone else left, leaving him alone with his thoughts as the dirt continued to thud down as the grave was filled in. Not wanting to see the hole itself disappear, a finality that Richard was not prepared to accept, he did not linger, following the others soon after.

The lateness of the hour meant little was said once everyone was back inside. It was hushed inconsequential conversations while each finished a glass of brandy or whiskey before they all drifted off to bed, Richard included.

Richard sat up in bed, sleep having eluded him for what seemed like hours (but only an hour or so, if his watch was to be believed), his earlier thought still nagged for an answer.

How had it come to this?

Any other man, Richard was sure, would have counted it from the time he was shot by Wickham and nearly died. However, he had so often been faced with being wounded or killed it was only that it was in England by a civilian that was a surprise. Injury and death had been almost a constant companion since his taking part in the Battle of Rolica, way back, must been in '09, no '08, yes August 1808 against the French although in Portugal. Funny to remember that, as that was the first time he'd met and fought under Wellington, although he would still have been Sir Arthur Wellesley at the time.

Since then Richard had seen enough blood, death and destruction to last a hundred lifetimes. What stuck most, another thing he'd take to the grave, was the charnel house smell of death, during battle cut through with the acrid smell of gunpowder, which was all pervasive and lingered long after the frightful sights had gone.

No the proper place, if there had to be a place to say it started, was years later. June 1812 in fact.

It was when the British Army was camped at Salamanca, having captured it from the French and their puppet Spanish King. Richard had been there a few days, having brought replacements for the losses his regiment had taken during the siege and capture of Badajoz. He remembered being summoned by the Earl of Wellington (as Sir Wellesley was then known, having the Earldom confirmed on him by a grateful nation at the beginning of 1812).

That would be where Richard would consider was the time, if there ever was one, when all of his possible futures then became the ruined happiness of the past he looked back on now…

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**Spain, June 1812**

Richard had been on the Peninsula for some time, but most of it marching with the new recruits, only arriving at his regiment's allocated area outside Salamanca a couple of days ago. Major Miles, who had effectively been in command of the regiment, and the other officers, had done a sterling job in his absence. Richard was still coming to terms with the changes a near year absence had wrought on the 38th Staffordshire Foot. In an attempt to catch up as quickly as possible he was sitting with the Major going over every detail when O'Connor subtly caught his attention, signalling it was urgent.

"Excuse me Major. What is it O'Connor?"

"An Ensign from the General, sir."

"Well, let him in."

The ensign entered and handed Richard a folded note. It read, "_Colonel Fitzwilliam. Could you attend me at your earliest convenience. Wellesley._"

Richard looked up. "We shall have to continue this later Major, General Wellesley wishes to speak with me. Maybe you can get details about the provisions shortfall ready for when I return?"

Major nodded as he stood and left. O'Connor fussed about tidying his Colonel's uniform while Richard reorganised the papers so he knew where he was when he returned.

"Leave off O'Connor. So, Ensign…?"

"Starkins, sir."

"So Ensign Starkins, lead off."

"This way, Sir."

Richard questioned Starkins on the way over but he knew nothing. It took some time to walk to the grand house that served as Earl Wellington's quarters. But once there, it was not long before Richard was ushered in to stand while Wellesley finished dealing with an Artillery Major. As the Major departed, Wellesley looked up, "Ah Colonel Fitzwilliam I presume?"

"Yes Lord General."

Wellesley got up and wandered over to a window that looked out at the army camp around Salamanca itself. "So you find the 38th in good stead?"

"Yes, yes I do. Major Miles and his fellow officers have done a commendable job in my absence."

"Ah good, good. A damnable thing that, getting shot during a robbery back in England. Raised eyebrows when we all heard of it. Not a deserter I hope."

"No my Lord, nothing of the sort. In the end, no real harm done, although I now know if it is going to be cold and wet the next day. Not that there is much chance of that here."

Wellesley gave a short laugh, "No I suppose not. Still, it gets damn cold in the winter. Hmm…" He paused, while still looking out the window. Richard thought it best just to wait and said nothing, realising he was following Darcy's lead doing this.

"So, Colonel, you feel Major Miles is up to the job?"

"Certainly sir."

"Good, good. I have to say I've had good reports from Leith and Greville about him." Richard knew Greville personally, as he was the commander of the brigade the 38th was attached to, but had only heard of Lieutenant General Leith, the division's commander, by reputation.

"That is pleasing to hear Sir, can I pass this on?"

"Certainly. He's a bit rash at times, but I prefer that to someone who is indecisive." Wellington paused looking out the window again. Without turning he addressed Richard again, "I understand you brought a good number of men with you to replace our losses."

"Yes Sir, the First Battalion of the 38th is nearly back to a full compliment."

Wellington returned to his desk, sitting down while saying, "Excellent. Did you have any trouble recruiting? Other regiments seem to."

Richard thought how to reply, before saying, "A little, General. However I was able to meet up with a number of Militia commanders and picked up a number of recruits that way, as well as several good young officers who wished to become regulars."

"So I have been led to understand. Hmm... Would Major Miles be able to incorporate them easily into the ranks?"

"I had the recruiting Sergeants drill them as we marched through Portugal and Spain. Reports are that this has worked well, the new men fitting in with little disruption."

"So the Major and his... your fellow officers are doing a good job of getting them battle ready?"

"I would say Sir, that they are battle ready now, other than the actual experience of facing the enemy, and that cannot be trained for."

"No, no... of course not. Good. Good." Wellington paused as he shuffled a few papers on his desk. Richard started to wonder what the point of his being there, but there was little he could do but wait until dismissed.

"So Colonel, in your opinion, Major Miles would be capable of being a regimental commander?"

Richard smiled, so here was the reason why he was invited, Wellington was considering a promotion for Miles. Richard did a quick calculation, of saying yes, and losing the very capable Miles to another regiment, leaving him with Collier, (who was not bad as such, but very officious) against saying no and making Wellington unhappy, as he obvious favoured the promotion, (and equally having Miles learning of it annoying him as well). Then Richard realised that was being incredibly selfish, Miles was capable of leading a regiment and he had to say so, let the chips fall as they may. "Of course General. He has more or less being doing it for the last 9 months or more. There is no one I'd rather had to look after my regiment than him."

Wellington seemed very pleased with this answer. "Ah, that makes things easier..." and bent to write a note.

Richard waited, puzzled, that answer was odd.

Now finished, Wellington looked up. "So Colonel, given your old regiment is in safe hands, would you consider a new duty?"

"Sorry, what?" What was this about his old regiment?

"New post Fitzwilliam, on my staff of course. But detached. What say you?"

"Are you offering me a promotion Sir?"

"Yes and no. You'll stay a Colonel, but you'll be one of my staff officers. So the same pay, but none of the obligations of a regimental commander on your time or pocket."

Ah, thought Richard now that properly explains the questions about Miles. It was a promising offer, but he was not quite sure, his men depended on him. "What would I be doing on the Staff, sir? You said it was a detached duty."

"Not ready to give up command yet, eh? Don't blame you. But what I need from you is vital to my success here in Spain, as much as... no, more than you leading a single regiment." Wellington again changed tack, "You know we've experienced grievous losses already?"

"Yes Sir. I had thought I'd enough for a full complement for both Battalions, but the Second is still under strength as I had to assign more of the new men to the First than I expected to."

"It's not just the battle losses Colonel, horrendous as they are, disease, accidents and desertions, damn it, and at times even attacks by local Spanish people, it's not just the French forces, whittling our force down to nothing."

"So I have heard General, the 38th alone lost more than a handful last week to guerrillas during one foraging expedition."

"So you see my problem, don't you Colonel. New blood. For us to defeat the French we require a steady stream of men."

"Yes we do." Richard could not help but agree with Wellington, but could not see how this related to him.

"And you, Colonel, have been more successful at getting them than anyone else. Did you know all the last few batches of replacements had only half the number you brought with you?'

"No Sir. No, I had no idea, Sir."

"Well it's true. So Fitzwilliam, what we desperately need is someone that is prepared to return to England and send as many replacements as possible. You fit the bill. To win this war, we need men, a lot of men, and I am certain you can find me more than any other, certainly more than doing nothing. I need you... We need you... England needs you. Hell, even the men need you to do this. Are you prepared to allow them to fight as under-strength regiments? We will be bringing Marmont to battle before long and those losses will need to be replaced, just as the French are reinforcing their own already."

Richard couldn't verify his level of success against others, but there was no reason to doubt his ultimate commander. It would be churlish to refuse, but he still worried about his men. But if there was anyone he could consider handing them over to, Miles would be the one. "Miles will definitely be replacing me, won't he Sir?"

"Yes Fitzwilliam. If you accept I'll promote him to Lieutenant Colonel and confirm his position as Commander of the 38th at the same time."

"In that case, I accept."

"Thank you Colonel. Welcome to my staff. I'll draw up the necessary notice for you and the Major tonight."

"Thank you, Sir." A cheeky thought snuck into Richard's head, "Any chance you could transfer Collier out at the same time?"

"I suppose I could, any preference to where?"

"Actually, he would be better suited for a role aiding the Commissary and, if it came with a promotion, I think he'd accept it with alacrity."

The rest of the time spent with Wellington involved learning more of what his ideas were for Richard once he returned to England. While not a promotion in rank, it certainly came with much greater influence, backed by the authority of Wellington himself. In essence, Richard was to be in charge of recruiting men and officers from the Militia throughout England and then look after their preparation for the regulars once they signed up.

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**London, 1812**

As Richard stood on the London dock he'd left only a few weeks ago, he watched as O'Connor collected their gear, including the numerous gifts from the officers of the 38th (including a rather expensive one from Collier, who realised he owed his promotion to Richard's intervention, although thankfully didn't know why) and then something else he treasured more than any... all of those combined; a pewter tankard inscribed "_Presented to Colonel Fitzwilliam by the men of the 3th Staffordshire Foot. An honour to serve under you._" It had a distinct Spanish look, and he did wonder where it was liberated from, but that didn't matter, really.

It had taken a few days to ensure everything was squared away, but Miles' family was as wealthy, if not titled, as his own, and promised to continue to look after the men as Richard had. Given that he'd contributed even as a Major, Richard was happy knowing his men would continue to be cared for. After that it was a dusty return to Lisbon. As two men on horses they travelled much faster than they had accompanying the replacements marching the other way. The only delays were when the road, really just a track, ran along the side of a steep hill and they encountered wagons, filled with supplies going inland, or the wounded and dying going to Lisbon.

Once in Lisbon it took several days to force his way onto a ship, the magical 'Acting on orders from Wellington', which had worked like a charm the whole journey there, held little truck with the Navy, who were happy to transport him and O'Connor, but not their horses. But as O'Connor led their pair, blindfolded, off the _Caspian_, Richard was glad he insisted. Even after several days at sea, the pair, both from Darcy's stable, looked far better than the other nags in the area.

Before long he and his sergeant were dodging London traffic as they headed for Matlock House and a well-deserved rest on a bed that wasn't lumpy with rocks or moving constantly. He had hoped to have stayed at Darcy House, but Darcy's letter telling him that he'd closed the place up and returned to Pemberley had caught up with Richard in Lisbon. He'd replied immediately with his future plans, and sent it off on one of the boats that refused to take his horses. Richard knew he could not say much as the censors checked everything, but tried to convey his new position in the most general terms and finished his own letter in reply by mentioning he'd be travelling around so much that it would be little point in Darcy replying unless it was than important news, anything else could wait until he caught up with Darcy when he was first in the same area, assuming it would be Pemberley. Richard thought of going to Darcy House anyway, there was a room permanently set out for him, but thought it unfair on the few servants left, who would try too hard to accommodate him, where all he really needed was a bed and few cold cuts for the odd time he would eat there.

The first order of business the next day was a visit to the Horse Guards, which was the location of the War Department, having missed meeting his father, the Earl, this morning as his father was there already, leaving early most days, and working late just as often. While breaking his fast, Richard discovered that his brother, the Viscount, appeared to have repaired the breach with their father, and was in London, although thankfully in a residence in Brook St rather than here in Matlock House.

The visit to the Horse Guards went well, he met with Captain Kingham and Captain Baines who Lord Wellington had suggested as the first place to start. They were enthusiastic about some of the ideas Richard had come up with during his return trip to England but less so for others, with one causing them to look so appalled Richard decided that he best just stop without finishing. In return they let him know what they were doing, Wellington having already having them start the process of recruiting men from the Militia into the Regulars, but with patchy results, his own success likely explained why Wellington wanted him to be involved.

However as Richard moved about the Horse Guards building, visiting the other sections he needed to work with, while most were happy to assist he encountered resistance in other quarters, where even orders from Wellington were unable to un-stick the workings. Realising he needed a bigger hammer, Richard had no choice but to enlist the help of his father, as much as he preferred to fight his own battles, even the bureaucratic ones.

Father was surprised to see him (Richard wondered what happened to the letter he'd sent), although looked as if it was a pleasant one for the Earl. Richard showed his new orders and explain what he had planned. The Earl listened to all of it before suggesting a few changes, and with Richard's agreement, after explaining why Richard was encountering resistance, but said he could deal with it, give him a few days and it would not be a problem. Richard was only too happy to do so, and quickly agreed, giving the Earl carte blanche, while he got on with the rest of what he needed to do.

They broke for luncheon at Father's club. After spending the meal catching up, over a brandy Richard asked about Sumerville's return to London. The Earl explained that he had finally relented because Sumerville had said he wanted to take more interest in the family seat in the House of Lords as he would take up the seat in time. Richard could not fathom why his father would believe this, but the Earl was adamant that his brother was very contrite and wanted to make amends. Richard thought Father was running on hope over substance, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt, given there was the smallest chance that Sumerville was genuine. To back this up, Father explained Viscount had even offered to act as proxy to allow him more time to spend prosecuting the war. Although when Richard questioned this, the Earl could not point to one time Sumerville had actually done so, but explained each away because Viscount always had legitimate reasons for not being able each time, apparently, not that Richard thought that was the case.

It became harder to believe when Father continued to say that Sumerville had discovered Mr Edridge (his father-in-law) was extremely anti-government, and was advocating for making peace with Napoleon, even if that meant surrendering, to restore trade with the Continent. From what Richard surmised any trade that Mr Edridge would be involved with now since making his fortune would be with India and elsewhere overseas, where the Navy, by keeping the French bottled up in their ports, had prevented any real disruption of those routes, but did not know that was definitely the case. He suspected his brother was just slandering his father-in-law to play on his Father's own prejudices against those in trade, as part of the Viscount's efforts to have his allowance and freedom of movement restored. But when Richard said as much to his Father, the Earl would hear nothing of it, so Richard gave up.

They went their separate ways returning to the War Department. Richard went back to Captains Kingham and Baines and they discussed the changes his Father had suggested, incorporating most of them in their immediate plans. Richard decided his first order of business would be a trip to Brighton tomorrow to see the new training grounds that should be completed in a matter of weeks and may be ready for the first Militia units even earlier. This meant needing to visit yet more parts of the labyrinthine building, which took up the rest of the afternoon and the first part of the evening. As Richard passed through the various corridors, he noted a few officers give him an odd look, best characterised as revulsion, and they moved as if he was someone to avoid as they went past. Richard wondered if he was imagining it, but it happened just enough to be worrying, always with that specific reaction.

Talking with the Earl that night, Richard almost came to believe he was imagining it, as Father hadn't noticed anything of the sort himself. But on returning the next morning to finalise a few details before heading south it happened a couple more times. Both times, Richard made a point of introducing himself. When doing so the other officer was all that was polite, if reserved, in their replies. Richard casually made general enquiries about both, the only thing they appeared to have in common was a merchant family background. That seemed little reason for their reaction, until Richard realised if they had trade connections, these could include Mr Edridge, and given Father was likely to be passing on Sumerville's comments, this might explain their reactions. Richard resolved to see if he could get Father to refrain from continuing to comment, not because it was likely to be untrue (but Father would not listen to that), but because it could make Richard's own duties more difficult.

The trip to Brighton was as expected. On arrival Richard found the camp less complete than reported and that more funds had been spent than should have for the amount of work done. He was frustrated with the lack of progress, and knowing full well little could be done to get the Works Supervisor and men to proceed faster given the general shortage of men, he was still close to sacking the lot. However, O'Connor made a casual comment, along the lines that the most of work was just like they used to do in preparing for a siege, only the almost completed structures needed the workmen. Realising this was the answer, Richard tasked the Works Supervisor with completing the buildings within two weeks, a lot more time than they should need. If they did they'd get paid the remainder, otherwise he would make good on his threat to sack the lot if it was not done by the time he returned. By the third morning a good proportion of the remaining work had been done so Richard paid over half the remaining funds, with a promise of the rest when finished, and returned to London to arrange for the first Militia units to use the training grounds.

The first Richard chose was the Tower Hamlets Militia, under the direction of Lord Francis Rawdon-Hastings, the Earl of Moira, who was the Constable of the Tower of London at the time. As a fellow Whig, it was an easy assignment to get him to agree to send the Second Tower Hamlets Militia to Brighton for training (and unstated, a good part of their training would be to complete the external works) by next Friday. As Richard had found in the past, once away from home militiamen and their officers were much more amenable to accepting the bounty to exchange their service to the regulars. It became even easier for Richard when the Earl of Moira used his own influence with two of the other London Militia commanders to get their units to join his for the month of training planned.

In addition, Father was good to his word and had managed to grease the mill, and now other favourable decisions were forthcoming from elsewhere in the Horse Guards. After a few days of what seemed like non-stop work, Richard was set to travel again, the only decision left was which of the numerous Militia companies to visit to arrange for them to follow the first Militia group. There was no letter from Darcy, but as Richard said not to write unless it was important, no news was most likely good news or at least a lack of the bad. Although he did wonder how Darcy was going with wooing the fair Miss Elizabeth Smith. Maybe he should make Ramsgate and its two attractions his next stop? Which led to his heart lurching as he wondered, how was Charlotte? Had she gone into a decline as some ladies did? No, he knew she was too practical to do so, it was one of her attractions. But it would be unfair on both of them to bring up the past. His discussion with Darcy at Rosings had put it all in perspective. He was done with it. There was no value in digging over old ground and re-wounding Charlotte's already bruised heart. Visiting Ramsgate was out of the question.

In the end he had Captains Kingham and Captain Baines draw up a list of various Militia units to visit, and with their help and the Constable, sorted the list into an order, with the most likely to relocate at the top. The main criteria was the commanding officer, was he progressive and willing to listen to new ideas? They then removed those that were a prominent landlord in the area, as they'd be reluctant to leave the area. Younger sons or those known to have made their fortune in trade and were not rooted in the land were put up to the top of the list. At the top of the list was the Wiltshire Militia, but they were stationed in a dozen towns throughout the county, although the commander, a personal friend of the Constable, was quartered in Salisbury. Apparently this was common in the western counties, the militia serving there were dispersed throughout to police the local area than kept in a larger single unit as a defence against a landing by Napoleon, as it was done in the south and east of England.

Not looking forward to the possibly of traipsing around Wiltshire, if the commanding officer decided he needed to talk to all the other officers, Richard looked to the next on the list. The second was in one place, but in West Yorkshire. However the third place on this rather arbitrary list was a Nottinghamshire unit commanded by a Colonel Forster stationed a little north of St Albans, about half a day's ride from London. Colonel Forster was the second son of a man who made his fortune in the Indian trade. This was ideal, the unit was all in one place, a non-land owning commander, with the men already out away from home and all close to London as well. Telling them of his choice, Richard made arrangements for him and O'Connor to leave next Monday.

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On the Monday chosen, summer disappeared, leaving behind a grey drizzly autumnal replacement, which lead to a slow, long slog north. Rather than making St Albans for luncheon as intended, it was at a roadside inn miles south. They didn't actually get to St Albans until mid-afternoon. Thankfully as they worked their way through the town and further north, it rained itself out and the wind picked up a little, causing the clouds to scuttle off. For that entire trip north, Richard had had a nagging feeling about his destination, but could not put a finger on it, and it only got stronger as he left St Albans.

It was a good deal more than the hour it should have taken travelling on the very muddy St Albans road when they came to the outskirts of a small town that looked positively overrun by militia officers. They seemed to have the run of the place! Thankfully for the locals, none of the men appeared to have been allowed out of the camp. But the large number of officers about meant Richard did not have to go all the way into town to get directions, he just followed the largest block of traffic.

The reason for the lack of discipline was explained when the highest ranking officer, a Captain Hawley apologised as Colonel Forster and a good many of the more senior officers were away at the good Colonel's wedding celebration, but should return in a se'ennight or so.

'Well', thought Richard sarcastically, 'This has been a great start!'

But he supposed it was a good thing he'd decided to start somewhere close, imagine going all the way to Yorkshire and finding the same. Not looking forward to another muddy ride back, he asked for him and his sergeant to be put up for the night, which was quickly arranged.

While having dinner with the remaining officers, consisting of another captain, a few more lieutenants and almost a full complement of ensigns, Hawley mentioned that the locals were putting on a dance, and as many of them were going, would the Colonel like to attend? There would be space in one of the coaches they'd be taking. Richard was ambivalent, but allowed himself to be talked into it. So after dinner, with good natured ribbing for poor Denny (a Lieutenant Dennison) and the four ensigns left behind to maintain order, the party set out.

They got most of the way into town, when Richard suddenly overheard something.

"Did you say Meryton?"

"Yes, indeed, Colonel." replied Hawley, "Meryton has been very hospitable, including holding these weekly dances to give our young officers a chance of society as well as of war."

That confirmed it! That nagging feeling about where they were suddenly was clarified. The town of Meryton! That is Miss's Lucas... Charlotte's home! Richard's first instinct was to leap out of the coach and run off, but he was wedged in his seat. The next thought was to see if could come up with an excuse, anything really, to get out of this. But his usual quick wit had left him. Richard wasn't given much time, and hadn't though of anything when the coach stopped. He still hadn't when Hawley said sternly, with a fierce glare to the other officers after they had all disembarked, "We're here. Now I shouldn't have to mention for you to behave yourself, but a few of you were a little too friendly with some of the younger ladies last time, which is why Denny is the one staying back at camp. Don't make me regret allowing you this liberty." Hawley then proceeded to usher his charges into the hall.

For Richard there was nothing left to do but act calmly and politely, if he met her here. But, with thought that lifted his spirits, Charlotte could well be at Ramsgate even now, thus all this worry for naught. Here's hoping. But with discretion being the better part of valour, Richard hung back and let all the others into the Assembly Rooms before quietly slipping in behind and off to one side.

It was the wrong way to turn! Richard found himself only a few yards away from her, with only a clear space between. Charlotte! Unwilled, his heart leapt.

She gave a strangled cry.

He froze, conflicted between making the polite greeting that he'd resolved to do only moments ago or greeting her how he really wanted to, with all the familiarity they had developed in Ramsgate, but if he did so it would shock the entire company.

Heads turned, including some of his party, as he stood there in indecision.

As Charlotte flushed red and, in a swirl of skirts, fled the room.

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**As with any author I love to read your reviews.**

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**To help me improve my writing, could you consider answering the following if you post a review for any chapter:**

**\- What parts did you most enjoy?**

**\- Were there any parts you didn't like, or think out of place?**

**\- Were there any parts you thought "what was that about"?**

**\- Do the various characters seem to be as you imagine them to be from P&amp;P or MMDAJ?**

**\- Have I made any glaring continuity errors from what is written in MMDAJ**

** Plus one to answer now:**

**\- It starts with a funeral - whose?**


	2. Part 1: It Starts, Chapter 2

**Meet Darcy's Daughter, Amy-Jane**

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**This is the sequel to my P&amp;P AU story Meet My Daughter, Amy Jane (MMDAJ). It will not make sense unless you've read my first story already. **

**WARNING: Spoilers for MMADJ in the bold text below.**

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**Authors Note: This sequel starts in the middle of 1812 (apart from the very first bit of Chapter 1 – the funeral – which is 7 years later in November 1819). The rest of that chapter and this second chapter are happening at the same time as the start of Part 4 of MMDAJ. So the events of this story are (partly) described in the letters that Charlotte sends Elizabeth, or what was written about what Richard does/knows/hears/tells Darcy. But, as is often the case, letters don't tell the whole story.**

**The sequel will tell the story of how, and then carry on past the moment where Richard lets the world know that he is married to Charlotte (that is the very end of MMDAJ). It will continue to be more focused on Richard and Charlotte's story than Darcy and Elizabeth - I want Darcy and Lizzie to have their 'happy ever after' - which is nice, but not very dramatic and thus a boring story. But you'll all get to know what does happen with everyone's favourite couple (and Amy-Jane too), as well as Jane and Bingley and all the others from canon P&amp;P - Caroline - Mary, Kitty and Lydia - Georgiana – the Hursts - even Mr Collins! (who could forget him) - as well as the AU characters I've invented – the Dowager Countess – the Trenthams and Featherstones - O'Connor, etc. as this sequel works its way to 1819 (and a little beyond).**

* * *

**Part 1: It Starts, Chapter 2**

**1812\. Meryton, Hertfordshire, England. **

Charlotte instinctive flight ended at the cloakroom just down the hall and, thankfully, she was alone. The whirling thoughts made her feel a little dizzy; 'Why did I run?', 'What sort of state do I look?', 'Why did he come here?', 'Why did he just stand there?', 'What does he think of me?', 'What will everyone think of me?', 'Good lord, what will they think he did?'…

In a matter of moments, all these coalesced into one thought, one thought alone, that came with an overwhelming feeling of dread, 'Oh no, what have I done!?' Just after it looked like things might be going her way…

* * *

**Several Months Earlier**

Charlotte returned home from Ramsgate, after staying those few days in London, luxuriating in being entirely alone in Mr Darcy's extremely well sprung coach with its wonderfully considerate driver. No crowded, rattling stage this time, with its racing, jouncing travel dictated by a rigidly enforced timetable and stops just long enough to get out before being stuffed back in. Charlotte was enjoying the solitude of travelling alone, it gave her time to think, something noticeably absent recently, with the whirl of preparation a move to Lambton initiated, and then the wonderful, if short, stay at Darcy House in London, trying to cram as much into those last few days together, before her and Lizzie (Jane and Georgiana in as well) would part ways.

What better use of this time but to think about the most important decision of her life, whether she would, in the end, go to Lambton. When Lizzie had asked her, Charlotte had wanted to say yes immediately, but felt the drag of family obligation and that held her tongue. Later that night as she sat unsleeping, thinking of what saying yes or no would mean, Charlotte was painfully aware of her awkwardness and shyness, of disappointing her parents with her continual deficit of suitors, as she was left to watch as her friends and neighbours all married around her. But if not marriage, what life was there for a lady, but to be a burden on her family, and with it the obligation to be useful in return. Charlotte had worked hard to ensure, however unwanted, she was too useful to be overlooked. She did find some measure of happiness in helping others, and she was needed, that was true, but she never felt wanted. She was always an extra, a burden. There had been that brief period with its glimmer of hope, but Richard was forever lost, her future years as a useful but unwanted relative would stretch out interminably. That was until Lizzie's offer. It didn't take Charlotte long to realise that leaving home was the only possibility of her actually being happy, but that was only if Lizzie really did want her. Which was why Charlotte, having decided she was most likely going to say yes, waited a few days to see what would happen.

Reminiscing about the convoluted ways Lizzie obeyed the letter, if not the spirit, of her promise not to try to influence her decision bought a smile to Charlotte's face. She didn't have the quick wit of Lizzie, but Mrs Carter's sudden desire to talk so often of her memories of Lambton or the friends she knew there was so blatant even Charlotte could not fail to mistake Lizzie's hand in it. Not that it mattered, that Lizzie was uncomfortable in holding her tongue and trying hard in any case was one of the reasons Charlotte had, in the end, said yes. Lizzie really did seem to want her to live with them. Mrs Carter's and her celebration on hearing the news certainly reinforced that.

It was later, in London that Charlotte's pessimism reasserted itself. It was obvious to Charlotte, if not to Lizzie, that Mr Darcy had not given up on his suit, and with Lizzie's change of heart regarding the gentleman in question, there was every chance that he'd be successful. So when Lizzie became Mrs Darcy, where would that leave Charlotte? She knew Lizzie would want her to live with them, but she just couldn't. Charlotte thought would be able to see Richard with some equanimity, if, no when, that day finally happened, although preferably off in the distance at first, then occasionally, hopefully a bit later in person, as he could not but travel through Lambton to visit Pemberley, probably in a Matlock coach with his heiress wife alongside. She would be content if he was happy with his father's choice, and hoped the Earl would choose wisely. But she could not live in the same house where he'd be staying. That would be too much to bear. So the question became, could she find a happiness with Mrs Carter and just visits with Lizzie? This made her previous assent moot, and now Charlotte was far less certain of her choice.

Intertwined with all of this was the complicated state of her heart. Charlotte left Ramsgate a changed woman. For the first time in her life she truly loved a gentleman, and was certain he loved her in return, even if he would not, could not act on it. But in the end, it didn't matter. Charlotte was content knowing she was loved for who she was; plain, shy and awkward, mousey Charlotte, but still, somehow, desirable and desired, wanted. Her heart felt his absence every day, more so, obviously, when alone like now, but was no longer raw and bruised as it had been the day he departed. That knowing that she was loved had, given time, and Lizzie's friendship, banished the pain and the scars had healed, leaving Charlotte calm and content. And, if she looked at it rationally, there was a silver lining to the situation. Given Lizzie's own example of refusing Mr Darcy's offer, Charlotte knew she could also refuse anyone that did not measure up to Richard, and doubted anyone ever could. It was freeing to know she would no longer sit desperate for a dance and then be always anxious that she'd say or do the wrong thing and 'ruin her chances', an accusation Mother often used when the latest gentlemen favoured someone else. So her new found contentment with being loved, even if it was unrequited, also favoured the move to Lambton, where she could put on a lace cap and sit content with the other matrons and spinsters, no longer with her parent's pressuring her to dance or make polite conversation, unless she wanted to. Charlotte also hoped she could convince Mrs Carter before long (although unlikely to convince Lizzie) that she was no longer looking to marry, and thus avoid uncomfortable introductions to eligible gentlemen once there. So, all in all, having gone over all the pros and cons any number of times over the last few weeks, and now during this trip, as Charlotte passed through St Albans, she was greatly favouring living with Mrs Carter over staying here in Meryton, but could not say for certain.

However, as she got closer to home, her sense of guilt increased, was she being selfish? Looking at it like that, in going to Lambton she was being selfish, but, Charlotte realised, maybe she should be allowed to be a little selfish, it was her life to live, not her family's to live for her. She needed to answer was she being too selfish? Charlotte grew more and more conflicted as the blocky outline of Netherfield past by and now familiar fields came into view.

In the end, passing by the turnoff to Longbourn, Charlotte realised, it all came down to a simple question. Her family definitively needed her, but did they want her, like Lizzie and Mrs Carter (and in his way, Richard) clearly wanted her. It was being wanted, that gave her far more happiness than just being needed. As they passed through Meryton itself, Charlotte made sure to drop the window and wave, so that her neighbours saw her arrive in the Darcy coach, as she knew her parents would have wanted her to do, she came to a decision. Not THE decision mind, but about how to make the decision. She'd tell her parents at the first good opportunity to do so, of Lizzie's offer (actually best if it was Mrs Carter's offer), and see how her parents reacted. Not just if they tried to convince her to stay, but what they said to do so. Would it be 'because we need you' or would it be because 'we'd miss you if you left'? Happy with this, Charlotte sat back and enjoyed the last few minutes of luxury left to her.

* * *

Her immediate return didn't bode well for the decision to stay. Mother's first comments were "I'm glad you are back dear, there's a pile of shirts that needs mending and you know Maria is not able to do it neatly enough". George only said something unintelligible in way of a greeting as he rushed passed her and Father, who knew she'd be arriving about this time, had decided his time would be better employed being out visiting. Maria gave her sister an enthusiastic greeting, but she was most interested in London fashion and gossip, a subject Charlotte had not bothered to learn much of, she left soon after to go to friends, looking disappointed. Tom was the happiest to see her and spent time with Charlotte during the rest of the afternoon. However, exactly how happy, was hard to determine as Tom revealed he wanted her help to convince Father to allow him to join up, preferably the Hussars, but any regiment would do.

Maybe it was just due to the long period she'd been away, as the following days returned to normal; Mother took genuine interest in what had happened in Ramsgate (well the bits Charlotte felt comfortable speaking about), although interrupting to fuss over the gentlemen Charlotte should have met, or where she had not put herself forward to the ones she admitted to meeting. However, Charlotte could tell her Mother was doing this out of real concern for her, however annoying it was.

George was brusque, as always, but he was like that with everyone. Charlotte knew he was very busy as the local wool buyer just as Father had been. It was made worse as he had no help from Father because, as Sir William saw it, the Lucas's had been 'elevated above the petty concerns of commerce' and George should not sully his hands with mercantilism. George was more attentive on the few nights he was not visiting the Long's, but even then he refused to answer questions of how the business was doing, even with Father absent, apparently still resenting Charlotte's attempts to 'help' when George first started. He had perceived her efforts as totally unwarranted interference, going as far as accusing her of telling tails to Father. She hadn't, Father obviously was still friends with the very same farmers that George had to do buy from and they would have passed the information on themselves, but George could not see it.

The gentleman in question, Sir William Lucas, was happy to occupy himself as the substitute 'Lord of the Manor' since there hadn't been one at Netherfield for years, and was civil to all and sundry, ensuring he was attentive to everyone (who was someone, thought Charlotte when being uncharitable). However he was similar to Mr Bennet in that he took little interest in his daughters, other than to ensure they were well mannered and always appeared as a compliment to him. But in saying that he did see to it that they wanted for nothing and, in thinking he was helping, started inviting the officers for dinner on a regular basis now Charlotte was at home.

Maria was too young and (as far as Charlotte was concerned) spent far too much time with Miss Nicole Long or Miss Lydia Bennet to have much in common with her older sister, but she did listen attentively when Charlotte talked of soldiers or Georgiana (with the focus on what Miss Darcy wore). However little they had in common, it was clear that Maria idolised her older sister and could not see, and vehemently defended Charlotte against all and every accusation and negative comment made about her.

Tom was, as every local young man, too enthralled with the smartly dressed militia to be much around, spending most of his time out at their camp. But when he did, he maintained a sort of casual attentiveness and concern for his oldest sister that Charlotte could not deny showed he cared for her.

Charlotte's routine returned quickly to what it had always been, accompanying Mother walking the mile into Meryton to visit their neighbours or to do the daily shopping and being useful around the house, kitchen and gardens. But this did nothing to make the decision to go or say any clearer or easier. So Charlotte took the easy route out and put it off, leaving her feeling annoyed with herself, and as the days turned to weeks without her able to come to a decision, feeling more and more guilty as well, all the while living with the nagging feeling she'd forgotten something.

Charlotte had another reason to feel guilty. During a shopping trip with Mother soon after returning Charlotte found herself picking up a pair of lace caps, made from beautiful Belgium lace (a rarity at this time), before reluctantly putting them back. But the very next day, after attending the first of what became a large number of local assemblies, spending the evening with Mother pushing her to dance every dance with the Militia officers, that the temptation became too much and Charlotte found herself buying them both. Although being by herself in the shop, she was able to hint these were a present for Mother and asked the shopkeeper to say nothing of it. Once home Charlotte tucked the two lace caps into the bottom of her glory box, but not before trying them on in front of the looking glass in the privacy of her room. They made her look older, but they did suit her well. While she felt ashamed about buying them at all, and breaking her promise to Lizzie, to put off declaring herself a spinster by putting on a lace cap, Charlotte was reassured by their presence, in case Mother's attentions at subsequent dances became too much, and once or twice, for the assembly following a previous harrowing one, Charlotte put one into her reticule, although it did stay there each time.

Her guilt was further compounded every time she received a letter from Lizzie, in which Lizzie always commented about how much she was looking forward to going Lambton, and never failing to ask if Charlotte had made all her necessary arrangements (thankfully, Jane never brought it up). Not knowing if she was even going now, Charlotte found it difficult to know what to say, and tended to extemporise an answer that was not definitively one thing or another. Thus Charlotte's replies were deliberately written full of trivialities and little joyful happenstance to fill the pages instead.

* * *

Charlotte knew she could not go on like this, but it took a letter from Lizzie sent from Ramsgate full of the preparation for Lizzie (and thus Charlotte's) eventual move north to force the issue. Lizzie wrote that she and Mrs Carter would be leaving for London to the Gardeners less than a week. Then, only a few days later, Lizzie, Amy-Jane, Mrs Carter, Jane and all the Gardener's, children included, would be heading to Lambton. Then once there, Lizzie wrote excitedly they would pick out a house for all of them (three exclamation marks and double underlined). Her letter did not say if they would pass through Meryton, but Charlotte worried that they might. While they were unlikely to visit the Bennets, Meryton was on one of the usual roads north. Even the King had stopped here when a carriage wheel broke, which was why Father, as the mayor of Meryton at the time, got the chance to impress His Majesty, the rest being history. And if they did turn up, what would, could she say? "Sorry I've not actually decided, even though I said yes earlier, now I'm worried that you are going to get married to Mr Darcy and leave me all alone again." But with the fear of having to tell Lizzie at the front of her mind, Charlotte knew she had to do something and soon.

Her anxiety was such that she ruined one of Tom's socks she'd been darning and, instead of unpicking what she'd just done, Charlotte very uncharacteristically (for her, it was a well-known thing for Lizzie to do) just dropped the offending sock back in the basket and went for a long walk, ignoring Mother and Maria's inquiries as she left. She needed the solitude to think. Later, she found out that Mother had sent Tom to keep an eye on her, but thankfully, he stayed well back and did not make a nuisance of himself.

In the end, Charlotte realised, she had not even told her parents she was thinking of moving north, at least that was a place to start. Charlotte decided it would be their reaction, and how they objected, if they did, that would clinch it,. On her return, brushing off Mother's concern, she steeled herself and went to see her Father. He was where he normally was when not out, in the library.

"Father", Charlotte said as she sat down opposite him.

"What is it Charlotte?"

"Err... Father, what would you say if I went to live with Mrs Carter?"

"What in Ramsgate?"

"Ah, no. Mrs Carter has been thinking of returning to Lambton, where she is from, and me to come live with her."

"What, does she need you?"

"I am more wanted than needed, but I suppose it would be easier for the both of us."

"Well if she doesn't need you, you might as well stay here."

"But what if I want to go, Father?"

"What does it matter what you want to do?" Charlotte wasn't sure of what she just heard, did he really say that? as Sir William continued, "How do you think it would it look?"

"I will make it clear I will be going to help an elderly lady, so it would not look like anything out of the ordinary."

"But you are the daughter of a knight of the realm! His Majesty personally bestowed this title on me. It behoves me to ensure I and my family maintain the honour I was given." he said rather pompously.

"But I don't understand Father, how that affects me?"

"Going off as a companion, that is not what ladies do."

"But Father, I am not a lady. Mother is, but I am not. I doubt I will reflect any better on you living as a spinster here."

"That is true. Goodness help me, your Mother and I have tried to marry you off for years now, with little luck. We had hoped you might meet someone in Ramgate, which is the only reason why we let you go in the first place, but you did not even bother to go out, or so Lady Lucas informs me."

That shocked Charlotte, she'd not known. "I was nursing a very sick soldier, what chance could I have had?"

"You could have easily made chances if you wanted to, but I suppose time has passed you by in that regard, even Colonel Forster, who is near my age, is marrying someone much younger than you."

"So if I am unlikely to marry what does it matter where I live? Why can't I be happy with my situation?"

"Surely you can be happy being useful here at home. Anyway I am certain George will need you soon, he's asked me to start discussing marriage papers with Mr Long."

Charlotte was uncertain what to reply, but the more her Father had said, the more determined she was to leave. His attitude had made up her mind for her. While she was steeling herself to continue to plead her case further, Sir William carried on, "Anyway when George marries there will plenty for you to do, and it will save him the expense of having to hire a housekeeper."

"But Father, you said I am not allowed to be a companion, how would being a housekeeper be any better?"

"Well, they wouldn't call you a housekeeper, obviously."

"But I'd still be nothing but a poorly paid servant."

"Not poorly paid! I'll still pay you an allowance."

"So you admit that I'd be a servant then?"

"I said nothing of the sort, don't you twist my words! You can't be a servant, you're family. Apologise now."

"Sorry Father."

"That's better. You'll find it good to be properly busy, with more than enough to do. You obviously send too much time here sitting around thinking. That's no got for a lady. Leads to all sorts of troub... " Sir William's sentence petered out as he looked past her and into the hallway and called out to whoever was there, "George!"

Charlotte turned and looked, to see her brother enter the library. He looked harassed, as always.

"George. You tell your sister you'll need her when you set up house with Harriet."

"Actually Father, no, we'll not need her." He looked apologetically at her, "Sorry Charlotte."

Charlotte's reply of, "It doesn't matter George." was drowned out by their Father's bellowed, "What!"

George turn to face his Father and retorted, "As I said Father, we'll not need her when we marry. Obviously later... err, much later... when.. when I become the head of the family, I would ensure there would be a place for her, but not now."

"Well I say you should find a place! I should make it a part of your marriage settlement." said Sir William forcefully.

"You'll do no such thing!" replied George, equally passionately.

"I can and I will. That and make it worth your while to give up this stupid dabbling in commerce. Totally unfitting for a gentleman of your station."

Charlotte shrunk down into her chair, hoping to pass unnoticed as it blew into a full on argument.

"Dabbling! Hah! I've nearly matched your income already, and I am certain to exceed it in only a few more years."

"Sullying your hands with money, counting your coins just like a moneylender. I taught you to be better than that! There is no need for you to work. A knight of the realm is above all of that, and most certainly you should be too! " Sir William was almost shouting now.

"And where will that come from? Huh! From the money you made, like I am making now! It got you the Mayoralty, and thus your knighthood!" George yelled back at him, as Charlotte noticed that both protagonists face's were flushed bright red.

All this commotion had given her a pounding headache. Charlotte thought it best to slip out as her Father retorted angrily, "Nothing of the sort, I was noticed, noticed!, by His Majesty himself!. He recognised the nobility of my character! But I doubt he'd see the same in..."

Their yelling became muffled and unintelligible as she shut the door. Moving slowly, as her head was now throbbing painfully, Charlotte was half way up the stairs, when the library door was flung open. Charlotte saw George looking back over his shoulder, and yelled, loud enough for the whole house to hear, "Mark my words Father, I will have that title, and unlike yours, mine will be passed to my children!" as he stormed off.

Charlotte heard her father yell after him "George!, George! Come back here boy... George! Damn that boy!" before a door slammed and all was silent.

Charlotte went straight to bed so skipped dinner that night, spending the time lying with a cold face cloth across her forehead. Maria was kind enough to fetch a cup of willow bark tea, which eventually took the edge of her headache and she was able to pass into a fitful sleep once it was dark.

* * *

Charlotte woke late to find the house empty, with only two maids at home. As she broke her fast, Charlotte was told that Lady Lucas left instruction to get ready for her to take Charlotte and her sister into Harpenden to buy some more dancing slippers, lac, ribbon and other bits, given the number of assemblies had used up a season's worth already. Even Charlotte, who never bought more than a pair of slippers each year, could understand the need, hers were threadbare already, and she'd worn all her good dresses at least once and several for a second time. Being informed that her mother was visiting Mrs Phillips and Maria was at the Long's, but both were expected back before noon, Charlotte discovered she had a rare morning completely to herself.

Wanting to do something productive with this opportunity, Charlotte selfishly ignored the mending basket and sat at the writing desk instead. Replying to Lizzie and Jane would be the first order of business, and then the rest of her correspondence afterwards. However Charlotte found she didn't know what to reply to Lizzie so, in the end, put her letter to one side, and got out Jane's. Answering Jane's questions first, Charlotte went on to relate to Jane gossip about those in Meryton she knew Jane would be interested in reading about, finally finishing only when all that was left was space on the panel for an address.

Still unable to think of what of yesterday evening's disaster to convey to Lizzie, Charlotte answered all her other correspondence. Unfortunately that did not take as long as she had hoped, and there was still nearly half an hour before Mother was due. But she couldn't put off replying to Lizzie until later, and supposed, it would not be fair on Lizzie for Jane to get a letter posted today, with her own posted tomorrow.

After trying to write about her discussion with her father several times and throwing out each attempt, Charlotte accepted defeat and once again filled a letter with triviality and gossip, which read as far happier than she felt. Charlotte felt guilty misleading Lizzie, but Lizzie had so much on her plate, with Mr Darcy and the whole move herself, Charlotte thought it best not to add to her worry. In this vein, Charlotte even finished with a comment about how she was anticipating moving to Lambton and that she'd was working on convincing Father to allow it. Maybe she should cross out that last comment, which stretched the truth to the point it almost broke, but unless she rewrote the whole letter, (which there wasn't time for, as Lady Lucas had returned a few minutes ago) it would look worse (and knowing Lizzie, she'd try to work out what she wasn't supposed to read anyway and wonder why Charlotte did not want her to know she was trying to get Father to allow it).

As Charlotte started to fold and seal all the letters her Mother popped her head around the door to say, "Sorry I was late, but you'll never guess what I've just heard..."

* * *

As Mother went to change and they both waited for Maria to return, Charlotte debated whether to add this latest titbit of news to, she supposed it would have to Lizzie's letter, as there was absolutely no room on Jane's, and in the end decided she probably needed to. So, squeezed into the margins, in small crabbed writing to fit it all in, Charlotte added that Mrs Bennet was making a great deal of a visit by a cousin, the Reverend Mr Collins, Lizzie might already know as the heir to Longbourn, a newly frocked clergyman, would be arriving in a few weeks time. Mrs Bennet was sure this would show the Bennet's were now considered respectable, at least in the eyes of the church. Apparently, Mrs Bennet believed his purpose was to obtain a wife, and Lydia would easily capture his interest and they would be married before the end of the year. Charlotte said that Mother thought it was more likely that he was there to inspect the property, and others had agreed. Charlotte wrote she thought so too, Mrs Bennet the whole marriage thing was some silly idea she must have dreamt up, since Mrs Phillips said Mr Collins had sent another letter to engage a room at the Dancing Lady, so he would not be staying at Longbourn but in the inn in Meryton. With only enough space left to do so, Charlotte finished by hoping this news would not upset her or Jane, but thought maybe best they should know, and her innate honesty led Charlotte to add it was only a rumour, Mother wasn't able to state whether it was actually true or not.

After a luncheon of cold cuts, Lady Lucas declared she couldn't wait for Maria any longer, they would collect her on the way, so Charlotte and her Mother climbed into the gig, and headed off to the Longs. Lady Lucas was quite annoyed to discover Maria had gone with Miss Nicole to the Bennet's, but as there was no point of heading completely the other direction to pick her up, they left without her.

Mother chatted happily the entire trip to Harpenden, Charlotte rarely replying, and then only to direct questions, not that her Mother seemed to mind. It was not that what Lady Lucas was saying wasn't interesting, it was more that Charlotte was too worried about whether she'd done the right thing by adding that postscript to Lizzie's letter, actually the whole of Lizzie's letter was concerning. Then there was the problem of her causing George and Father's argument, whether Father would even let her move to Lambton, her situation and lack of marriage prospects, whether Richa... Colonel Fitzwilliam was still safe as he must be back in Spain, well everything really. This introspective mood continued as they walked around the Harpenden shops, Mother enthusing over this bit of lace, or that shade of ribbon, Charlotte giving only perfunctory answers when asked to pick one over another.

One the way back, as soon as they were about a mile from Harpenden Lady Lucas stopped the gig and asked what the matter was, in a way that was obvious the gig wasn't going to go anywhere until she got answers. Charlotte tried to dismiss it as just one of those things, but Mother would not relent. Reluctantly Charlotte told her of her plans to move to Lambton, and what arrangements Mrs Carter had already made.

Charlotte was surprised when her Mother said it is worth considering and asked more about Lambton and Mrs Carter. Charlotte told what she knew, and under her Mother's skilled questioning, let slip about the unmarried Lambton Rector and that Mr Darcy estate of Pemberley was just past Lambton. On hearing this Lady Lucas changed tune, now it was a great idea, an opportunity not to be missed. With Mr Darcy estate being so close by Mother went into raptures about the gentlemen Charlotte would likely to meet. Charlotte tried to downplay the possibility of invites, but Lady Lucas scoffed at that, saying of course he'll invite you to visit, he wouldn't let you travel in his coach and then ignore you once you are nearby, that would be ridiculous. As the set off again, Lady Lucas enthused about the new dresses, in the latest fashion of course, that Charlotte would have to get made, as she could not allow her to visit such a wealthy gentleman estate without them. Charlotte only just convinced Mother not to turn around there and then to head back to Harpenden, settling for delaying it a few days, instead forced to listen to a one-sided conversation as Mother talked of fabric, colours, styles, lace and ribbons the rest of the way back home.

As they detoured to pass through Meryton, Mother (thankfully) bought her dialogue to a halt, but it resumed again immediately after they stopped at the local dressmakers, where Lady Lucas ordered the first few of many dresses she'd mentioned while Charlotte tried, unsuccessfully, to stop her.

Once on the road to Lucas Lodge, Charlotte asked Mother whether Father would approve, to be told to leave Sir William to her, she'd deal with it. On hearing, this tearfully Charlotte confessed of asking Father already, of being rebuffed and how she'd caused the argument between him and George. While Charlotte couldn't accept it, Mother said not to be silly, it wasn't her fault at all, George and Sir William had been arguing off and on ever since Christmas, when George announced he was going to offer for Miss Long, but only once he had enough of his own income to afford marriage, which given Sir Lucas's silly views on George working (as Mother said), caused the occasional quarrel, but they get over it in a few days. She then went on to reassure her daughter, that even with that poor start, she saw no problem getting Sir William's approval. Just leave it to her, she'll be able to talk him around in a se'ennight, a month at the longest. While Charlotte would only believe it when it happened, she told Mother she was happy to leave it in her hands. Now feeling a bit better about her situation, Charlotte participated in Mother's discourse on fashion for the last little distance to home.

* * *

A few days later, Charlotte was beginning to become anxious again, having not heard anything either way from Mother, when George put his head around the door to the Drawing Room, as he had done a number times a over the last few days but, rather than disappear immediately after, he walked in and shut the door behind him.

"Good you're alone. Charlotte?" he said as he sat opposite looking earnest.

"Yes George." Replied Charlotte, looking worried in return.

"Um… err… I've come to apologise… I'm sorry about what I said."

"What? When?"

"About not needing you, you know… with Father."

"Ah, that. No need to apologise, I know what you meant."

"I'm sorry, but Harriet says… she says… she doesn't want anyone…" George stumbled saying the last bit, while looking sheepish.

"George. It really doesn't matter. I didn't want to move in with you either. Actually, I am hoping to move north, if Father lets me, so it may not ever be an issue."

"You are moving north?" When?"

"Only might be, at this stage George, Father has yet to approve. That was why he asked you to come, to get you to say you needed me so I would stay."

"I did wonder why he was so quick to push me to take you. Do you want me to talk to Father instead? We're good now, so there is a good chance he'll listen to me."

"No best not, in case it causes another argument. Mother is going to ask. She approves, in fact, is quite keen on it."

"In that case don't worry, Father will give you his permission. You'll be going north before you know it. He'll even call it his idea."

"How can you be so certain?"

"You know that Father only became an Alderman because Mother made him, and she suggested he put himself forward for Mayor as well."

"But I thought…"

"That's what Father wants everyone to believe, but you know our old gardener, Mr Buchanan? He told me that Mother and Father used to have big arguments about it, as he didn't want the bother, same with being Mayor. Obviously Mother won both times."

"Really?" This was news to Charlotte.

"I've had it confirmed, well the Mayor bit anyway, by others. But you and I both know it is usually better to ask Mother first."

"That is true. I should have done that this time as well." Charlotte admitted.

"She'll arrange it for you. Anyway, how far north are you going?"

"Lambton…" when George looked blank, Charlotte added "Derbyshire."

"Derbyshire? That's good wool country. Maybe I'll visit after all. That is if Harriet is happy with it."

"That would be nice. I'd look forward to it." Although Charlotte was a bit peeved to come second to the sheep.

George paused, before standing and leant in to clasp both her shoulders. He gave them a squeeze before giving his sister a peck on the cheek. He then strode off, with a "I can't wait to tell Harriet…"

Charlotte stood and yelled after her brother. "Please don't."

George stopped, "Can I at least tell her you are not trying to get Father to make us take you?"

"Oh, that, certainly that, but nothing else, until I know for sure."

"You'll let me know won't you?"

"Yes George. And thanks."

"No, thank you!" replied George as he walked off with a jaunty step.

Charlotte sat back, feeling more confident about her chances, as she finished attaching new lace to the dress she'd be wearing to the assembly tonight.

* * *

Charlotte tried to calm her wildly beating heart and rapid breathing. She knew she had to give the appearance calm, even if she wasn't, when she went back out.

Richar… Colonel Fitzwilliam's sudden appearance that had thrown her. Charlotte had started to believe she would get the opportunity a new life, a quiet one in the depths of Derbyshire, without him and then suddenly here he was! Charlotte realised her reaction was perfectly reasonable given the strain she had been… was still, under, but you don't speak of those things to others. Knowing without a plausible excuse for what she'd done, the rest of the assembly could think the worst. Charlotte was certain a stranger would laugh it off and let her suffer the effects of her stupid, stupid reaction. But knowing Richard as she did, he'd make an offer to protect her reputation (which must be non-existent by now, thought Charlotte wryly).

Charlotte's heart delighted in the possibility, but her head knew that it would be a disastrous way to start a marriage. He would quickly grow to resent her if he didn't already and, with his Father punishing him for marrying poorly, he would be forever lost to her, yet they'd be trapped to spend life together by unbreakable vows. All that was left to him was to go off to fight and die as he would have nothing to live for. She would kill him! A sob escaped Charlotte's lips, she had, in a moment of madness, killed the man she loved! Not literally, but she might as well have held the knife herself.

Still in a panic, Charlotte looked frantically around the room, furiously trying to think of what to say. As she did, Charlotte spotted herself in a nearby mirror, her ashen pale face stared back at her. She looked frightful. As Charlotte pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to put a bit of colour back into them, and tidied the worst of her hair, she had it! Yes, that would do very well! Charlotte rushed as demurely as she could back to the hall.

* * *

**There you have it. My first cliff hanger chapter ending (first of many). I shall leave you to speculate as to what Charlotte has thought to do/say.**


	3. An apology from the author

**An apology from the author.**

For those that are patiently waiting for another chapter, initially the delay was I had been rather too absorbed by the cricket world cup - NZ did very well, making it to the final for the first time ever. Since then I had written a good deal of this next chapter, but then while editing it, realised I had made Richard and Charlotte into mini-Darcy/Lizzie who then had a Hunsford like moment – total rubbish, and so I deleted it to start a rewrite.

Unfortunately, it was then my Father went into hospital, for something he and we all thought was routine, but was diagnosed with advanced stage pancreatic cancer. In the end we had very little time, as he passed away last Saturday, extremely suddenly for all of us, given that he was pretty healthy and active right up until the end.

I am going to need time to sort out my heart and my head, so will not up be up to writing romance at the moment. I imagine it will take several months to deal with this and thought it the right thing to let you know that there will not be a new chapter for a while. But I have a story I want to write (and have already planned out) – funny how prophetic that first opening few paragraphs seem now – and with patience, you will see further chapters later this year, continuing on the story of all our favourite characters.

In the meantime, enjoy all the other great stories being posted, with more reliability.

Regards,

Stephen (Fost)


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